


It's never getting any better than this

by cake_hunter



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Hybrid!AU, I'm Sorry, M/M, it will get happier i promise, mentions of parent abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:24:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cake_hunter/pseuds/cake_hunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael believes that his 'gift' is in fact a curse. Being half human half cat isn't what you could call 'normal'.  Michael is just about to give up on everything, but then he is welcomed into Roosterteeth' where hybrids like him live. Michael learns that his new problems aren't so much fitting in, but finding out who he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. broken glass

**Author's Note:**

> hellu! so this is my first fan fiction (woo) so bare with me. i'm aware this isn't perfect or anything, but practice makes perfect right? 
> 
> if you're part of the achievement hunter fandom, i'm sure at some point you have come across Padalickingood on tumblr. she's created the ever famous hybrid!au stuff. Shes really nice you should go follower if if you're not already :)  
> anyway. i'm not 100% basing the ideas of her. I am also adding a few ideas of my own. 
> 
> thank you for reading i hope you enjoy~ feed back is always welcome

Michael's story starts with a sip of coffee, and a stern look from his mother. Her caring ways guiding her ‘son’ into whom he is today. Michael pulls his beanie and sips his drink; he kept his eyes on his mother. Michael had spent the past few years wondering why his parents never had long ears, or even a bushy tail that trailed wherever he went.  
He mother would always smile and tell him “you're just special.” Michael knew that of course, but that kind of special was not something wanted. The attention, the abuse, all because of what? Because he was cursed with ears and a tail and that made him ‘different.’ 

The morning his mother told him he was in fact adopted handed over by the government. Michael's Saturday morning was filled with hisses and cries. The cold air filling his lungs, filtering through his brain. He felt numb. Although deep down he knew, it was still a shock to hear it said out loud in the open air. Michael left the house with a slam and a crash. That’s how Michael normally dealt with problems. He punched it in the face and broke it apart into tiny pieces. 

The cold air was almost suffocating the redhead. He ran out without a jacket or scarf. He would sure feel the pinch later, but for now his rage boiled over and the red curtain was all he could see. 

Michael’s world that he had built for himself was slipping through his fingers. His thoughts like broken glass lay shattered like stars as he tried to understand. For a moment he thought about going back home to where unasked questioned that needed to be asked and where he realized he didn't belong there at all. He huffed and sat on a park bench. The snow began to fall slowly like the broken glass that lay in Michael's mind. He watched as each snowflake began to lie like dust on his shoes. Each individual flake sparkled as the street lamp flickered on.

When Michael could no longer stand the cold, and had decided that he had calmed down enough to talk about what had been said. He returned home. When he arrived home, he was greeted by his mother who was stud in the kitchen door frame.  
"Hey honey, I made you some dinner, it's on the table if yo-"  
"If you try to use food to distract me from answers. It won't work."  
She took an intake of breath.  
"I can't help you Michael. Please listen too me, just this once." 

Michael didn't want to listen. The person he had believed was his mother all this time. Had turned out to be a lier, an act. He took one final look at her before grabbing his rucksack, and headed up to his room. This was not his home anymore.


	2. The pain of loneliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! so apologies for the late chapter update. This would have been updated a lot earlier, but I had exams and then I became very ill and was in hospital for a while. I'm not 100% happy with this chapter. I changed it several times and I've been dying to get this chapter out so I can get into the more exciting chapters. Sorry for any mistakes and such.

The sky was a swirl of greys and blacks by the time Michael had packed his rucksack. He huffed, drew in a deep breath and blew it out again in a sigh. He buried his aching head in his hands. The thought of having to deal with anyone right now wasn't something he was up too. He heard his mother call him a few times behind closed doors. Her words muffled by strong wood. Michael didn't answer; he was still wound up about the whole thing.

The snow began to fall heavier and faster. The red head knew he would be stupid to even dare to adventure outside into the blizzard. Although he felt uncomfortable –even in his own home, his room even- he knew he couldn't leave now. But where would he go? He began to go through a mental list in his head of people he could stay with? Friends... He had none… Family... No one would accept him…  
Micheal gave up and began to pace the room he had been almost imprisoned in all his life.   
He was pretty much isolated from the outside his whole entire lie. –His whole eighteen years-   
Since he could remember, he was home schooled. Michael thought that was normal, he thought every child was taught at home. It wasn't until his mother finally allowed him to watch TV shows that Michael realised that children his age actually attended to a school that was not at home. He would watch TV for hours until his mom decided he had watched enough. He saw smiles on there faces, Michael didn't even know when the last time it was when he smiled. And his never smiled through one of his mother’s sessions. So Michael believed now that that too was just an act. But there again anywhere outside would be classed as ‘fun’ to Michael.   
After Mrs Jones explained to her son that she was only doing all this to protect him, Michael believed her, accepted it even. But now Michael knew she was doing anything but. She was just being selfish in her ways. Not letting her own son explore the world like millions of other moms allowed there children to do. And Michael never thought that was fair.  
Micheal had never had a friend. He used to talk to his stuffed bird that he had named ‘Feathers’. Michael grew up so alone. And the only time he was aloud outside was for family events. And even then he had to cover up who he was. His family knew he was different. They had all seen his tail and ears, but his father demanded that he hid himself. He had to wear his beanie (Even if it was boiling hot) and always to keep his tail still, tucked into his trouser leg. (Which Michael found very uncomfortable) 

Michael had felt alone for all his childhood. No friends, no going outside, limited TV. Michael's mother always in fear of him getting bullied and beaten. But Michael thought it was ironic. His mother drilled into him that home was ‘safe’ and outside was not for him. But Michael's dad was the biggest threat to him. He had never got on with his dad. Ever. Just because his ‘son’ was ‘different’. He took his drunken anger and frustration out on Michael whenever he could. Home wasn't ‘safe’ when he was around. He was always on edge. Surely no one should live like that he remembered thinking. Its wasn't even like he could escape. So Michael just learnt to deal with the blows and kicks he received. And the sad truth is that Michael didn't even care anymore. Even If he father did beat him to death. It was better than suffering. Surely outside wasn't as dangerous as Micheal's ‘dad’.

 

But surely, Michael thought. Neither one of his parents can keep him locked away forever? It will soon drive him crazy. And Michael even questioned, was he crazy? His whole life was crazy.   
Michael often blamed his anger on all the suffering his been through for eighteen years of his life. He blamed his mother for trying to keep him ‘safe’ or for his dad for the threats and blows he received when he dared to rebelled. 

Michael felt his eye lids grow grow heavy, and his legs ached. He decided a nap would be the best thing right now. He had no other plan anyway. He gave up, for now. He fell asleep as the millions of tiny snow flakes fell from the sky. 

Michael was awoken by the sound of repetitive knocking. It wasn't soft or any near quiet. Michael rolled over with a sigh; he pulled his pillow over his head. His tail began to twitch in frustration. He tired to dull out the loud knocking, but with his hearing. It was impossible. 

“MICHAEL, IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS GOD DAMN DOOR I WILL BREAK IT DOWN!” His dad’s voice as loud as a lions roar as he began to hammer at the door again. 

Michael felt his stomach drop, and twist in ways he had never thought was possible. He dad did often get angry at him, but Michael felt like this anger was different. Frustrated? Impatient? Well he knew he would find out soon. His dad practically screaming now, his ‘roar’ had to into broken screams almost like he was beginning to loose his voice. Michael had put a lock on his door for moments like this. If he was too be imprisoned in hos own home, he at least needed his own privacy. His room seemed to be his only ‘escape’.

After another heavy knock on the door, the red head headed to his door. He slowly undid the lock and opened the door. There he was greeted with a red faced, eye balls bulging, round faced man. His dad huffed – almost to calm himself down- his fist into tight fists. After a pause of silence, Mr Jones barged past Michael and into his room, like a bull in a china shop. Michael was sure if his dad was a ‘beast’ like himself. He would be a bull. Michael was often called a beast not only by his own parents but everyone. Michael never knew who or what he was really was because he was again, sheltered from the truth. His mother seemed to be good at hiding these kind of things from him. Michael knew that one day he would find out. But today was not the day.

“Going somewhere?” Mr Jones questioned through gritted teeth pointing his thumb towards Michael’s rucksack placed on his bed.

“We- Well…” Michael stumbled, words failing him. They always seemed to whenever his father was in his presents.  
“Well?” Mr Jones repeated crossing his arms, his anger still simmering.   
“Dad, its not what you think! I’m not running away!” Michael felt panicked. He had never planned on his dad barging in like this. He barely had a plan as it is…  
“Bull shit.” His dad finally spoke, swiping the spit off the corner of his mouth. 

Michael felt helpless, another common affect of being around Mr Jones.   
“I’m going to talk with your mother, and you're going to stay right here. Do you understand?”  
Michael was confused on why his father sounded so calm, but he nodded anyway.  
“Yes.” He nodded again. 

He watched as his dad left as fast as he had entered. He didn't understand. He didn't receive a single hit…

He sat down on his bed and listened through a closed door as his parents argued about something. It was obvious that they where trying to be as quiet as they could about it. But quiet is impossible for Michael's dad. Michael thought about going back to sleep. But that didn't seem wise as his father was obviously up to something.

Three hours passed until the shouting and arguing had silenced. The red head sighed in relief as the silence echoed throughout the house. Finally loud fast foot steps creaked up the stairs. And there stood his father again. His face blank of emotion, and this didn't help Michael feel any better. He used his dads facial expressions to determine if he needed to flee or fight. 

“Get in the car, with your bag.” Mr Jones voice was scratchy, probably from all the shouting.   
Serves him right Michael thought.

Michael did as he was told. He walked without a word down the stairs with his bag, and only half smiled as he passed his mother in the kitchen. His heart was still racing, thumping against his chest. But maybe his dad had calmed down. Even so, he had learnt to always be careful. 

His anxiety slowly began to get the better of him. As he existed the front door and walked to the car and got in. His breathing went all kinds of crazy. Fast, choking and then barley able to catch his breath at all. Michael tried to calm down, he took slow steady breaths. It seemed to work for that short moment. Until his dad began to take large strides too the car. Then he felt his chest tighten. Where was he taking him…

The question lay heavy on his lips as his dad began to drive further and further away from his prison. He was glad to finally get out the house, but he had never been alone with his dad before.  
“Where are you taking me?” Michael finally gained the courage to ask. He instantly regretted it as soon as the question was lft heavy in the air.  
“To where you belong.” Was his only reply.

All kinds of things raced through Michael's mind. Dead? In a ditch? A deep hole possibly? The possibilities seemed endless.  
As Michael tuned to look at his father he seemed emotionless still. His lips pressed into a straight line. His eyes focused, and his hands firm on the wheel. A line that ran from His left eye brow down past his eye and finished just at his left nostril. Michael had caused that very mark, just the other day. Michael never really realised he even had claws until his father tried grabbing his hair and beating him again. Self defense really.

The car ride seemed to continue for a good hour or so before Michael spotted a large rectangular building, with a large sign by it. “Sunny-hills” It was written In a large font in black writing. Underneath it read “A place where we can care for the different kind.”  
Michael's heart stopped. His dad was dumping him at a home for the ‘different.’ Michael didn't know what to do. His breathing shallow and his heart beat quickened again.

“welcome to your new home son.”


End file.
